


Stand Inside Your Love

by coveryourheads (rsk110)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsk110/pseuds/coveryourheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has everything he can possibly need in his backpack; always has. There is just one thing he can't fit in there. A throbbing heart being dragged behind that motorcycle among the flying dust, the man, the culprit, and his cool blue eyes; all the beauty he doesn't possess which Glenn wants so badly to have.</p>
<p>Slight changes to events and timeline make it AU but it sticks to the canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand Inside Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> Started out writing smut and then a story had built up. Changes to events and drawn out timeline makes it AU. Somewhere between S1 and 2. Used lyrics from Smashing Pumpkins' "Stand Inside Your Love" as well as for the title; it's a favorite love song of mine. May sound angsty but it is not. There are even references to Star Wars.
> 
> The Walking Dead and its characters don't belong to me. Song and Lyrics do not belong to me either.

[ _And for the last time you're everything that I want and asked for you're all that I dream_   
_Who wouldn't be the one you love..._ ]

Glenn manages to bite down on the lavender flowered pillowcase, stifling a scream that burns his throat. It should never feel this good. The unrelenting thrusts fill him over and over again. The hard cock inside stretches him wider than anyone ever has. Glenn likes it. He spreads his legs wider, his chest and stomach almost touching the nylon of the sleeping bag they have ended up on top of. Breaths come ragged and hot against his shoulder blade, a tongue snaking out to caress over his sweating skin. Glenn is used to being on his hands and knees, used to the rush of blood circulating way too fast around his brain from his heart pumping a mile a minute. He knows how rough men can get, how they sometimes have hurt him in ways he can't take. He has expected this of Daryl; it adds to the dizziness that he does not.

Glenn slips his hand down between his knees to relieve himself. He's been close for the past five minutes. His body sways as it tries to balance itself on one elbow. It's Daryl's arm that takes hold of him tight, steadying. It's Daryl's hand that wraps around him, pumping his dick with that calloused hand of his, matching the rhythm of his hips and the deep filling thrusts of his cock. Glenn's entire body snaps forward and back as he orgasms into the hand. He can feel Daryl's breaths stop against his ear, then a heavy release. The stubbles tickle the side of his neck. He stays still buried under the weight of this man, letting Daryl ride out the rest of his orgasm, feeling that post coital connection and the hot fluid seeping out of him when Daryl pulls out slowly. He's young enough where it turns him on but he just rolls over. He watches Daryl pull his clothes back on, shove his feet into his boots and pick up his ever present crossbow.

Daryl glances over his exposed body for a long second. Glenn winces at the protest of his overused muscles, shifting to cover himself. He doesn't ask Daryl to stay. He never has because he knows he won't. Daryl mumbles a good night to him. Glenn tries to smile but fails.

+++

The water is achingly cold. He'll never get used to washing in a stream. He has about half an hour to himself. He likes being with the group. He would hate to be alone in this world. But he misses privacy from time to time. His favorite pastime had been sitting in his room with his headphones on. Or the long drive down the empty four lane freeway to Savannah listening to crackling country stations to visit friends who went to school there. He lathers up the bar of soap between his hands. He wants to get the greasiness out of hair and off his skin, though about two hours after, he'd be covered in grime again. He truly misses hot water and long soaks in his tub.

He shivers in the coldness. He gasps when the pair of hands touch his sides. Glenn sighs at the scratches against the soft area of his neck. He reaches back with his soapy hands, curling them inside the jagged lengths of Daryl's hair. Daryl drags them slowly over the mud and rocks beneath their feet. Glenn feels the sun-warmed water against his belly, in the deeper side of the pool where the high sunlight streams in through the tall tree branches. Glenn nods, giving Daryl permission. He's turned, lifted, legs wrapping around the wider waist. He can stare at those eyes forever, search inside them. The water is deep and spiraling around their flesh. They don't have forever, though, and only have a good ten minutes or so before someone will come searching. Daryl pushes Glenn to a safer depth. The patch of wet grass seems like a good choice, even though their calves are still immersed in the water.

Glenn vocalizes his need for Daryl to hurry. The soap isn't enough and there is a burn when Daryl plunges inside him. Glenn bites down on his lip. He finally opens his eyes. The cool blues of Daryl's eyes are laced with concern and lust. Glenn tells him it's alright and relaxes. The scent of wet grass surrounds him, the slow and deep penetration within him making him dizzy. This would be a romantic scenery but the situation is not. It's only fucking and it's convenient and they don't have a lot of time. Daryl speeds up, hitting him where it makes him moan and whimper. Glenn drawls out Daryl's name as he comes. It hangs in the air like accumulating humidity of Georgian summer. Time stands still for the minute when Daryl stiffens, mouthing his skin.

Heat floods him and Glenn isn't content. The deep longing remains even though they are still connected. He knows he shouldn't want more than this.

Glenn watches Daryl wash himself rather methodically. He wonders if his back is stained green. The blues of Daryl's eyes find the aching inside him for the minute, staring. Daryl is out of the pool, wiping the excess water with a towel. He dresses, lingering until Glenn wades out of the water.

"I know," Glenn says. Daryl nods once before tracking his way back to the camp. Glenn buries his face in the prickly line-dried towel. He misses the over charging coin-operated dryer of his apartment's basement. He smiles because he even misses the weird rotation of mystery mansion novels always in the washer lounge. He never did find out who had been behind the murders of that last book. He misses time spent doing nothing, resting on his day off, sitting around the little apartment with his head always saying he should clean up the mess. He tries not to; the towel is scratchy against his eyes. He allows himself to cry for a minute before getting dressed and returning to the camp.

+++

He can't for all of his life's worth remember the words to the song he's heard a thousand times. It fills his head as they drive through the empty roads. The trouble is that he has his old mp3 player in the bottom of his pack, the charger and everything. He can technically plug it in to the RV's port to charge it, and listen to the goddamn song prickling needles in the back part of his head. But he doesn't do it; it's a luxury he doesn't allow himself to have. No one else has so much of their former possessions. Glenn, he's lived a mobile life and when it had been time, he just stuffed all the little belongings into his pack and left the apartment key on the kitchen top.

It's always been easy to leave. A man who'd been sweet had begun to hurt him, leaving bruises where no one else can see; he'd left easily. One after another, the physical pain or ones who couldn't be satisfied with just him, he'd left without a glance back. He'd never taken on much, just enough for survival. He still has the wad of cash in tens and fives in the little hidden compartment. He just hadn't known he would never need money again; but it hadn't occurred to him to just throw it away. There's a fancy fountain pen his father had given him for getting into university. It's the only thing he hadn't pawned when he'd run out of cash after dropping out, disowned. It feels as though he'd been running for so long with these little effects he just can't throw away. Eventually he would have to. A photo of his family from the final Christmas he'd spent at home. The key to his parents' house. A short list of phone numbers and names of relatives and friends; they're all probably dead or a living dead.

_And for the first time, I feel as though I am reborn in my mind..._

Glenn shakes his head. It's hot whether the window is up or down. There is always a cloud of dust in front of the RV. Daryl's on his brother's motorcycle, having ditched the gas guzzling truck. Dale is asking about the bypass they have to take off of this freeway. Glenn measures the distance on the map. A few miles. The map has small triangles for camping areas. They need the rest. They need water. They need food. They need gasoline. They need a lot of things and Glenn can only make a list in his head. He has everything he can possibly need in his backpack; always has. There is just one thing he can't fit in there. A throbbing heart being dragged behind that motorcycle among the flying dust, the man, the culprit, and his cool blue eyes; all the beauty he doesn't possess which Glenn wants so badly to have.

But it's enough of the angst and the melancholy music always repeating in his head. He focuses on the roads, watching for an exit so easily missed nowadays because there is no one to trim the growing hedges.

+++

He doesn't expect it.

Everyone has been starving and Daryl had gone out hunting all day. He has returned with plenty but after the skinning and gutting, there are never enough. Daryl looks haggard, face lined with streaks of rolling sweat that have washed down the dirt and grime. Even so, Daryl takes the first watch, easily climbing on top of the RV. Glenn asks Carl to take him a bottle of water they'd boiled and filled during the day. Carl usually doesn't go near Daryl, but he doesn't say no to Glenn. Lori gives him a cold glare but she doesn't say anything probably because of all those times Glenn has gone into walker filled towns, laying down his life for their needs.

Glenn doesn't risk looking at Daryl. He crawls into his tent. There is some low-voiced conversation among the men but he falls asleep. He wakes to a familiar scent of dirt and musk and engine grease, the heavy soft steps, the breathing pattern he's memorized too easily. Daryl never got a chance to set up his tent. He doesn't sound bitter or anything. Just tired. The temperature is hot enough at night. Glenn opens and spreads out his sleeping bag and the lavender flower sheet he always ends up with.

He is hit with those blue eyes. Glenn takes it all in before nodding. He pulls up his tee shirt. He wishes he had a lamp to light up the night, to really examine all the fine points of Daryl's expressions and movements. Daryl shrugs out of the button down sleeveless. He doesn't expect it; but he'll gladly receive.

Glenn urges Daryl to lie down, knees drawn up. He kneels between the muscular long legs. Daryl looks down at him, at his face, his eyes, his mouth. He takes in the strong musk with a long intake of air, wetting his dry lips with saliva. He takes the head in his mouth, jaw cracking open to adjust, and slides down the length as deep as it goes. Daryl moans breathlessly, like each time Glenn does this to him. Glenn is careful and wary of Daryl. He likes the tenderness when he's lying on his back, the eyes shut in enjoyment, the mouth parted, like a completely different person. Daryl doesn't ever grab his head and fucks into his mouth. He lets Glenn take control, and Glenn is thankful. So he does his best, watching for Daryl's reactions. His jaw is numb when he comes up, the head popping away from his lips, glossy with spit.

He rummages through his pack for the tube of lubrication. He palms enough to cover Daryl. Daryl's hands land on his thighs parted on either sides of those jutting hips. Daryl's lost some weight since the first time he'd seen him; but so has everyone. It isn't unhealthy, not yet at least, and it's actually quite attractive. Glenn's cock jumps when he pushes himself down.

Daryl's head is thrown back, exposing his throat. Glenn holds his breath, easing down on the length of the cock. The grips on his thighs are tight. Daryl's hips push up, with eagerness and as much restrained gentleness. It takes a few minutes to adjust to the thickness inside him; it always hurts at first. Daryl is making small circles over his hipbones with his thumb. Glenn rotates his hips, biting back the moans. It's always such a tremendous ordeal to have; and he cannot be the sole owner of this. He claims it for a time, riding Daryl the way he likes, letting the hardness rub against the spot deep inside him over and over again. Sweat rolls down, dripping down from his chin. He keeps his eyes closed tonight because sometimes it's just too much. He's afraid to want more; if he looks into those eyes, he would want much more than this.

He can feel Daryl getting close, the way he pushes up into him when he goes down. His muscles clamp up. Daryl's back bends like his bow, spurts filling him. It's a beautiful way to be together. Glenn is a bit surprised when the big hand wraps around his erection. He had been trying to abstain from coming on Daryl's skin, afraid he might dislike it, but he can't help with this man. He trembles with Daryl still buried inside him, loads of come landing on Daryl's stomach, his chest. Glenn is a bit embarrassed but Daryl doesn't look like he minds at all. He pulls away little by little, wincing at the discomfort. They wipe down with a towel Glenn has around. Daryl doesn't dress right away, laying still.

"Sorry," Daryl says.

It isn't an apology Glenn wants. It isn't like he had ever blamed him for any of this. The apology slams against his chest and does worse damage than punches or a backhanded thrash. He flinches away at Daryl's touch. The blue eyes widen in recognition of the reaction. That hurts more than everything else.

+++

[ _You and me, meant to be, Immutable, Impossible... It's destiny..._ ]

Daryl doesn't stop. Glenn doesn't let him. He reaches behind to grab hold of the hard flesh. Daryl moans in response, pounding harder into him.

It's raining hard and there is nothing the group can do but wait it out. Luckily they have come to an old camping ground for scouts with cabins almost intact. There are roofs and four walls. They aren't much bigger than their tents but it gives them a little more privacy and somewhat of a security to rest from the rain. No one questions when Glenn and Daryl enter the same tiny cabin. Rick and Shane come around to discuss watch rotations and to hand out food. They get the morning shifts, back to back.

They push the bunk bed over the door. The curtains are flimsy so what Daryl does is cover up the three small windows with the scout-sized mattresses. Daryl is still soaking wet from riding on the motorcycle. Glenn lights a battery powered lamp. They open up the two cans of peaches and beans. They eat in silence.

Daryl doesn't have anything dry to change into but he shucks off the wet clothes. He hangs them over the bare bedframes. Glenn does the same, though he has some dry clothes. Daryl falls into the dirty mattress now covered with some wool blankets they'd found and that lavender flowered sheet. Daryl looks at him expectantly, and Glenn just gives in. He takes the offered hand, climbs on to Daryl's lap. They look at each other, skin glowing orange and deep shadows from the small lamp.

The fabric under his face smells like Daryl's skin. Glenn can't hold back the moans. It's raining hard. They are separated by walls from the others. Daryl grunts, not holding back either. He seems to be encouraged by the way Glenn is reacting. The hands grip his hips tightly, thrusts exacted to make him scream out in pleasure. Glenn is fascinated by this. His toes curl, coming undone so easily into Daryl's waiting hand. Daryl slows down. He doesn't stop. Glenn doesn't let him. Daryl murmurs into his ear, describing how tight he is, how hot and how good his cock feels inside him. Glenn reciprocates, telling Daryl how he likes being fucked hard. How much he likes him. He has to add, being inside him. Daryl pulls out almost to the tip, thrusting slowly to the root. Glenn groans like sin. He's hard again, much to Daryl's amusement.

He is fucked into the mattress, barely able to breathe. Then at moments it's frustratingly languid. Glenn begs for more and more. Daryl abides. They take their time at this, listening, breathing, tasting the salt of each other's skin. Daryl comes with a strangled shout, mouth lined against his neck. Glenn can't help his legs shaking when they finally separate.

"Sorry I keep doing this to you..." Daryl's palm cups his chin. Glenn tries not to but leans into it; into the warmth. They have to sleep in the one bed together. Glenn falls asleep blanketed in Daryl's arm and leg, his presence, the steady sounds of rain hitting the rooftop and the sour scent of sex.

When he wakes, Daryl has gone. Glenn winces at the pain of his legs and lower back. His limbs are all jelly but he kind of likes it. There is a bucket of water just by the door. He wipes himself down the best he can before getting dressed. The sun is shining bright as if the rain had been nothing but a hoax. He sees Daryl sitting on top of the RV with a ready shotgun rather than his bow. Glenn packs and joins the others. He hadn't been woken up for his turn at watch. Rick asks him how he's feeling. Glenn just shrugs it off. Carol has some fever reducers for him if he needs them. Apparently, Daryl's told them he's sleeping in because he's feverish from the sudden rain.

+++

[ _For the first time, I'm telling you how much I need and bleed for your every move and waking sound..._ ]

He can take the silence. He can take being ignored. He cannot take another apology.

It's another week, going around in circles. Eventually all the trees blend together, the dusty roads all too similar. A walker or two, knifed and shot with an arrow, a string of squirrels or some kind of animal Glenn can only name as road kill, are all blurry. The summer is fading. It's easier to run into a town, grab some things, and it doesn't feel as tiring when he comes back; even if he's empty handed. There is a cool breeze. It also makes the walkers more lively. Maybe their undead brains can't take the heat either.

Another week, another night. Half of the things they own are in tatters. The old tent Daryl has is deemed unusable, so they end up sharing every night. Pretenses. Daryl fucks him on his back. On his knees. On his side. From beneath him. Against a tree trunk, digging splinters into his back before actually hunting. On the grass. On a picnic table they'd stopped on the way to find a gas station. On Daryl's motorcycle.

Daryl rolls over on top of him. They just shimmy out of their jeans and underwear. It's quick and hard and breathtaking. Glenn whimpers Daryl's name. His hands dig hard into Daryl's scalp. In the seconds where there is nothing but the electric tingling throughout his nerves of orgasm, Glenn leans in, meshing his mouth against Daryl's. There is a growl. There is hesitation. There is Daryl, his lips opening to suck in his mouth, tongue digging in and tangling with his. Glenn takes it for what it is. It isn't anything; just as all those times are nothing but a physical release of pent up energy after taking down walkers. It's to burn up the adrenaline in their system. It's nothing but that. But even after, Daryl goes on kissing him, and Glenn feels that annoying prick under his eyelids.

"Sor--" Daryl stops. He sees the unshed tears. Daryl stares down at him for the longest time. When he opens his mouth, it's something he does not want to hear. "Glenn... We should stop..."

"What do you mean?" Because for once in his life, he can't just pick up and leave. He can't start somewhere else new. Most importantly, he doesn't want to. "We've done this much and you're telling me we're just going to stop? Because I..."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You've already done more damage than anyone else ever in my life."

+++

And Daryl has disappeared from his life. Not entirely. Just the feeling like his heart is torn into pieces and tossed. He had sworn he would not fall in love. It had only been something physical, a release. Now he feels used and thrown away. Daryl doesn't even look at him anymore. And it's like everyone else knows something has gone wrong but they don't even know how to ask.

They stop in the middle of the road. Shane takes Glenn to search for whatever they would need from the cars jamming up traffic. Shane asks if he's alright. Glenn shrugs, "Never been better."

Walkers swarm them. They hide under cars to wait it out. One spots Sophia. She runs into the woods. Rick chases after her. When Rick comes back alone, Carol panics, bawling into her hands. Daryl brings T-Dog, arm cut deep. Then they go into the woods to search for her. Rick sends him and Shane back up to the group. After what feels like too long, Rick comes back. Daryl does not.

"We got separated by walkers." Rick explains. He looks Glenn square in the eyes. Glenn steps away. He needs a place where he can breathe.

Glenn spends the night awake in this old Cadillac because it doesn't smell like walker in there. He stares at the motorcycle. When he'd been little, he had been so sure he had some sort of magic in him. Like he was a Jedi and if he concentrated enough, if he believed and if he could channel the Force for the goodness of all, anything could happen. He'd tried the Jedi mind-tricks on his sisters and tried to move objects using the Force. It had never worked. Perhaps because his father isn't a Sith Lord...

He tries it now. He shifts so he's facing the dark forest. He can hear the women, Carol, standing, sniffling, walking back and forth all around the few cars they're using as temporary shelter. He wills the things of the forest to help Daryl, for Sophia to find her way back. The concentration makes his senses sharp. He can hear the breeze shifting the drying leaves, the branches knocking together, the night birds calling each other. He thinks he hears footsteps. He knows how Daryl moves. His feet are light considering his muscular weight. The soles of his boots step carefully, the blue eyes scanning before each move. The way he holds his knife, always carefully clean and sharp, the extra ammo in his pocket for the shotgun, the short switch blade in his boot, and his crossbow slung over wide shoulder always ready; he knows these and more. So much more. How soft his breathing gets when he's sleeping. The scars decorating his body. The inexplicable tattoos on his body, like inner demons clawing out of his skin... The spray of freckles on his shoulders... The smoothness of his back while all his wounds are on his chest and stomach, like he's never turned away from a fight, a challenge or a beating... Glenn wills the thoughts as energy to guide Daryl back.

The forest shifts. He thinks he hears footsteps. They are gentle and small. Dale is calling for Rick. Glenn jumps out of the car.

"Sophia!" Carol's shaking voice is smothered into the girl's hair. Her little face is streaked with tears. Rick risks using the flashlight. Carol checks over her daughter's skin through her tears. She has scrapes on her legs and her arms. No bites, no scratches. Sophia says she's been hiding, finding her way back to the creek when she saw a walker. Glenn expects her to say Daryl is on his way back. He gets no satisfaction. Rick wants to go searching for him at the first light of morning. Glenn volunteers too quickly.

+++

He and Rick aren't hunters or trackers. Glenn had had some lessons on tracking from Daryl, but hadn't learned enough. Besides, his mind had been on Daryl and his ass when he bent to check out some markings on the ground. Now he's regretting it; not having learned much. He can't tell if the tracks are Daryl's or a rabbit or just overturned dirt. He has to trust his feelings. They find a chapel after the thick forest, bells echoing throughout the woods. There are three walkers inside. He takes one down with a machete Carl had found yesterday. Rick cuts down two. Glenn swallows back the acidic taste burning up his throat.

If he can, he would, but he doesn’t even know where to start praying. He's staring at the wooden Jesus when Rick puts a hand on his shoulder. He's startled and shrinks back. Rick puts his palm up in a calming gesture. Something one does to a troubled criminal or a frightened dog.

"We'll find him, Glenn," Rick says assuring words that fail to convince him.

"Yeah. Or he's already back." Glenn tries to sound as optimistic as he is not.

They pick their way through the forest back to the highway. There is a buck, tall and proud. Glenn smiles probably for the first time since the quarry camp. They can shoot it down, but they don't have a silencer. Glenn is slowly getting closer. At least he's learned how to stay quiet near a game. He hears his body slam down on the solid ground before he understands the searing pain at his side. He hears Rick's shouting his name. Then everything goes black.

_Daryl_... He wills for him to come back. Not because he loves him or needs him in his life. Because he can't think straight anymore without him. If he can tell him one last word, it would be an apology for never making him understand that he love him.

+++

[ _Don't understand. Don't feel me now. I will breathe for the both of us..._ ]

Glenn doesn't know how to decipher this. He doesn't know if this is a dream or if the other things that have happened are just a long horrific nightmare. Here, he has people just walking around, talking, laughing, with little dogs and children, not trying to claw off his skin and eat him alive. He's sitting under a big tree to let it shade over him. Them. He has Daryl lying with his head on his lap. His blue eyes are shut, listening to the book Glenn is reading. It's a mystery mansion novel and Glenn can't wait to find out who the murderer is. Daryl thinks it's the butler.

"Why is it always the butler?"

"Because, they oppress the little people."

Glenn rolls his eyes at that. He continues with the chapter intent on finishing it, if only to prove Daryl wrong. The mastermind murderer however does turn out to be the butler with the maids helping. Glenn sighs, exasperated, wanting to toss the book away. It isn't his though and he has to bring it back to the laundry room of his apartment building.

"Have I told you how I like your voice when you read?" Daryl asks. Glenn laughs to fight back the blush when Daryl adds, "And when you say my name as you're about to come?"

"Shut up," Glenn says, shoving Daryl off his lap. Daryl playfully grimaces, rubbing the back of his head. He's half lying on the grass still, head resting on his arm. Daryl hasn't torn off the sleeves of this shirt. It's clean, not covered in dirt and rotting blood. His hair holds the light of the sun, shimmering flecks of gold. He smiles at him toothily, fingers picking at the long green grass.

Glenn opens his backpack to put the book inside. There are notebooks, textbooks, and a graphing calculator in there. None of the stinky clothes and other survival gear. The small first aid kit is not in there. The wad of cash is gone, replaced by a folding wallet with credit cards and neat twenties. There is a picture of him and Daryl inside. The small photo of his family are nowhere to be found. The only reminder he has left of them, gone. And...

"My pen's missing."

"What kind was it?"

"It's the fountain pen my dad gave me for getting into college."

"Glenn, what pen? Your dad didn't give you a pen."

"My pen! My pen, my iPod, they're gone! My picture, cash, the clothes, the stuff I need to survive!"

Daryl gives him this look. "You just came back from school. You got what you want in there. I can get you another pen and another iPod."

"I don't want new stuff. I want _my_ stuff. I want--"

"Glenn, you don't need those stuff. Don't you have everything you need here? You have me, there are no walking dead trying to eat you around every corner. You don't have to run anymore. You're safe here."

Glenn gets up. He backs away. Daryl doesn't talk so sweetly to him. It's sweet and eerie, like he's telling him to forget all the things he's ever considered important in his life. These are not what he wants to hear from him. "Daryl would never tell me that. You're not Daryl."

"Of course I am. I love you, Glenn. I love you. Come here. Let's stay here. Here, we can be together forever."

"This is a dream. Daryl would never say things like that!"

"It's safe here. You can get away from all the pain. No one will hurt you here. And I'll love you here, forever."

"That is not what I want."

"Then what do you want?"

Glenn doesn't have an answer. It's inviting, the way Daryl's arms are spread. He would fit in that embrace so perfectly. Here, he can love Daryl the way he wants to and Daryl will love him the way he wants him to. It's so tempting to give in, let go and stay here forever and he might be happy. But chunks of what's important are missing. This isn't what he wants. There are people depending on him.

"All that, all of that, they can be just a part of some dream. This can be real if you just let go." Daryl's words are spoken in a way he'd like to hear; soft, sweet and promising. But it isn't right. He doesn't want a Daryl like this.

"I don't want to let go."

"I can love you here."

Glenn bites down on his lip. Here, he can have Daryl. Here, it will be perfect. But it isn't. "I want you to be alive. That's all..."

The world shatters around him. Daryl is reaching out to him and his vision fails. There are sharp pains all over, concentrated at his stomach. There are flashes of light, fragments of voices like thunder clapping at his ear. There is his own voice screaming. They all feel a mile away but so close. His chest aches, searching around the dark endless space for something. Anything.

" _Sorry..._ " The word breaks his heart. He tries to call for him. His voice is gone, and he can't call out. _Daryl!_

" _I'm sorry that I keep doing this to you. This is... why. I'm not good enough for you. I couldn't protect you, Sophia, any of them. I don't deserve your love_ "

_Don't say that. Don't do that to me. Come back. Come back to me... Daryl..._

"...Dar..." Glenn opens his eyes to a strange room. Sharp pain stings all over his body. He sees a familiar face.

"Car..ol..."

"Oh god. Rick! Hershel! He's awake! Glenn's awake!"

An old man rushes in behind Rick and puts his hands on his eyes. The hand examines him all over. He doesn't know where he is or what has happened. He has to know one thing.

"Where's Daryl?" His voice cracks from disuse.

He sees Rick put a hand on Carol's arm. "Don't worry about Daryl. You just rest now."

"What... happened?"

Rich has the look of distress and decisiveness. "Glenn, you got shot."

+++

A bullet had burst inside him. Hershel, the owner of this house and farm, is a veterinarian. He says the bullet went straight through the buck, slowing it down. That is what hadn't killed him. The fragments had all been taken out. He'll mend. He had needed blood and everyone with type O blood had given him as much as they could. Glenn is thankful. The people stop in to see how he's doing. The bandage stains red when he tries to sit up.

"Where's Daryl?" he asks T-Dog. His friend shakes his head. It's enough to understand that Daryl is now gone. "How long now?"

"A week. Look... We might have lost him. We're still searching. But..."

Glenn nods in understanding. When he's finally alone, he dabs his eyes with the ends of the sheet covering his body. It doesn't have lavender flowers on it and doesn't smell like Daryl.

It's Andrea who brings him broth. Real chicken, she smirks. She sits on the chair to make sure he eats. There is hard bread. He breaks it up into pieces letting them soak in the broth.

"I think I can move out of this bed tomorrow."

"We'll ask Hershel about that."

Glenn stares down at the bowl.

"Listen, Glenn? Rick and Shane... They're arguing... About moving on? No matter what, we're staying until you get absolutely better but we have to..." She halts, unable to find the right words.  
"--Consider the fact that Daryl is not coming back."

It's Andrea's turn to look down at her lap.

"He's a big loss. And I know what he means to you--"

"What?" His stitches hurt. His insides burn. "He means the same to me as he does to everyone else."

"It's your call whether we stay or stop searching."

"He'll..." Glenn gulps back the burn. _Sorry..._ "We should stop before anyone else gets injured or lost..."

Glenn pushes the tray away. Andrea sighs, lifting it off Glenn's lap.

"Maybe it'll be better this way, Glenn."

+++

In another week and a half, Glenn does feel much better. He borrows a big button down flannel from Patricia and carefully walks out into the porch. His jeans feel loose around his waist and thighs. He holds down the mending hole in his body, pressing hard at the throbbing. He would give his everything for a good strong pain killer. The strange stinging is always there and shoots a little more needle with each step. Carl and Sophia are studying with Hershel's youngest, Beth, on the porch. They ask brightly how he's feeling. He sits and regrets the moment he realizes the steep decline of the chair. He asks Carl for a favor; if he can bring him his backpack. It's in Dale's RV. He follows the boy's hurried steps with his eyes. He sees Daryl's motorcycle by the cars. He wonders who had rode it here.

Lori comes back with Carl as well. She puts a hand on his shoulder. There is a new handgun in her pocket. With the backpack, he waits a few minutes for a little privacy. He won't get any, so he sits up, working at the tight knot he'd made. The weird vivid dream had made him suspicious. He digs around inside. Everything is where they should be. The pen, the mp3 player, the wad of cash, the medicine. He takes a private moment with the picture. He still has everything, except the one thing he cannot own now; never. It hurts more how easily it is fading, just like the bullet wound, the way Daryl had felt; but slowly and taking inches out of his life. He tries to remember; the way the blue eyes used to look at him, the angle of his face in the minimal light, the cradle of his palm against his face... Wherever he is now, Glenn wishes him the scenery they had been in under the refreshingly cool awning of the big tree, laughing, joking, just being whatever they wished of each other. That will be peace and he hopes Daryl has it now.

"Why did you bring the motorcycle here?"

The question throws Lori off. Now that they have food they're more familiar with from the farm, relative safety, they seem to have forgotten how imperative Daryl's person had been to the group.

"Dale thought... Dale _and_ Rick thought Daryl would be mad if we left it."

"What about when he goes back to the highway? He'll think we just left him..."

"Well, _if_ he does... We left a sign and some food and water. They go every day to check."

Glenn chokes back the want to scoff. At least Rick has the sense to pretend to keep searching. He can see Andrea and Dale by the RV. Carol is hanging laundry on long ropes. It's the afternoon and everyone is doing some kind of chores around the camp and farm. The walls of the farm house are thin. He'd heard Hershel argue with his daughter Maggie about sending them away.

Glenn is about to tell Lori he's better now and they should get off of the farm. The owner doesn't want them there; why should they stay? Waiting for a man who will never return... These are just pretenses the group has because they want to remain here. Hot water, fresh produce and dairy, warmth inside walls, no walkers for miles... "Lor--"

"Walker!!" Andrea's voice pierces the open field. She's quick to climb the RV's top, staring at the edge of the farm looking through the scope of the shotgun. Lori gets in front of the children. Glenn grimaces as he rises up. The men grab weapons, rushing down to the field. He's always had good eye sight. He can see a figure making slow way through the tall uncut grass. The way it moves, the slanting shoulder, the wobbling steps, the dirtiness of the skin, yeah, it's...

It's his heart which rushes. "That's Daryl..."

But no one hears his words as a shot is fired. The body goes down. Rick screams. Glenn feels as though he's been shot, again; this time in his chest, with a thousand rounds.

+++

[ _I'll wrap my wire around your heart and your mind..._ ]

It's a funny thing to be sort of sharing a room, possibly the bed, and they're both injured. Glenn moves from the hard wooden chair to the edge of the mattress. He stares down at Daryl, exhausted and in pain. Whatever forces have come forth from Glenn, he's grateful for. Before Andrea's bad shot that scraped the side of his head, Daryl had barked words at Rick, proving to the men he's not a walker. Daryl had Sophia's doll strapped on his belt. The moment he'd woken up on the bed which Glenn had been taking residence for the past couple of weeks, Sophia had jumped into his arms. Daryl had this look on his face of awe and disbelief.

After being stitched up, having no idea where he was or how he'd found the group again after wondering around the woods losing blood from the arrow that had cleanly gone through his side, Daryl had noticed Glenn. He had wanted to know what had happened. He'd been rather calm about it. But the second everyone left the room, Glenn had seen Daryl swipe his eyes with his knuckles.

Daryl asks with his eyes, looking at his face, at his side. Glenn undoes the buttons of his shirt, showing him the bandaged skin. Daryl's fingers twitch from where they're lying on the sheet. Glenn tells him it doesn't hurt anymore. Still, Daryl doesn't move to touch it. He just stares at it as if it's something he'd done to him.

"Sorry..." Daryl says. Glenn is about to tell him to stop it. Carol knocks on the door bringing in a tray of food for the two of them. She gives them a smile, a soft touch to Daryl's shoulder, thanking him for the unrelenting search for her little girl. He'd not known she'd found her way back.

Glenn watches Daryl eat, not moving to touch the food himself. Daryl tells him the story in just a few sentences, summarizing, leaving out the details. After getting separated from Rick he'd seen a set of footprints, Sophia's, and tracked them until he saw another, human. He'd found a camp with a rotting corpse inside. He'd found several of them; he lightly comments how this is the woods of Georgia and they'd likely come across people hiding, living in the woods to escape what is happening. He'd found towns and small housing communities, all full of walkers. He'd stayed the nights in abandoned homes.

"Had some thinkin' to do."

Glenn doesn't ask what. He shoves his plate at Daryl. He can't eat during what he's about to hear.

"Always been alone. My pa, family, all more or less abandoned me since I've been little. And I find this..." Daryl reaches up, but stops mid air. His hand is cradled in want to hold Glenn's face. "And I didn't know what to do. If it were a different place, different times, I would accept this. You almost getting killed looking for me? I don't know what I ever done to deserve this... That left me wondering..."

"I love you. That's why."

"I know that."

Glenn pulls Daryl's hand to his face. It's warm and grimy with weeks of unwashed dirt. It feels real. It's what he wants.

"...It's like you tied my heart up with wires and I can't even cut through them."

Glenn feels the same. They end up on the bed together, sharing the one pillow. It's the first time he's really slept in weeks, not just falling unconscious to the pain and the loneliness.

+++

[ _Who wouldn't be the one you love and live for_   
_Who wouldn't stand inside your love and die for_ ]

"It'll get worse before it gets better," Daryl states in his matter of fact tone. He means the walker situation. Winter is coming and it'll be for good. Hershel worries for the muddy creeks that'll freeze, letting whatever is in the forest to walk over and invade the farm. But for now, they move in, taking careful measures. Daryl disapproves, saying they should move on, find something more fortifiable. Then he sees Glenn still holding down his wound. He throws his bag into the room downstairs.

Glenn is still mending but Daryl is almost all healed. Glenn sort of jokes about the midi-chlorian counts and the indestructability of Daryl for the Force is strong in him. Daryl just stares at him with amusement and disbelief. But then he says:

"Well, I'm still no Jedi."

It makes Glenn laugh, head rolling on the pillow. He holds his side.

"If it's you, I don't mind going down the path of the dark side of the Force."

Daryl smiles at him, shaking his head.

+++

Daryl marks his neck, his collarbones, his chest and every inch of him with kisses. Glenn pulls the pillow over his face. They'd done this plenty of times, but it's different. It's like Daryl loves him...

The pillow is yanked away. Daryl reprimands him by impaling him harshly. Then slowly. Ever mattress claw inducing slowly. Glenn flings his legs around Daryl's waist. His hips are lifted but to no avail. It gives Daryl better advantage to do whatever pleases him. And Glenn doesn't care.

"Please, Daryl..." he begs, "Please."

Daryl kisses him on his temple. His cheekbone, following the line to the tip of his nose. The corner of his lips. The pout of his lower lip. Bitten and puffy from the kisses, Glenn tries to kiss him back, but Daryl pulls away. Glenn focuses on the finger held for a moment in front of his eyes. It trails down over his neck, over the middle of his chest heaving for air, down the ridges of his ribcages collecting sweat, to the wound still bruised and stitched where pieces of shrapnel were dug out of his insides. It's at the point where there are small amounts of blood still seeping out to coagulate over. Hershel says that's normal and it's a good thing. Daryl just worries, dipping his fingertip on the drop.

"Don't say you're sorry." Glenn stops him. He grabs hold of Daryl's face by his long hair. "Don't ever say you're sorry to me again. Just, fuck me. Fuck me until you're all I can feel in the world."

Daryl nods. He complies to all his wishes. Daryl is relentless, his cock driving him further and closer to the edge, backing off to do it all over again. Glenn doesn't even try to hold back, sobbing Daryl's name, his inner muscles clenching for the finale. Daryl has a wound of his own. He has many wounds, all over. Glenn runs his palm over all of them. Daryl dives in to kiss him, drinking him in as he thrusts in, letting Glenn taste his groans down his throat.

Glenn smiles at the lack of words and Daryl's satisfied expression. He lets him sleep, pulling the lavender flower sheet over his body. He never gets tired of watching him sleep. Daryl says it's creepy but he doesn't stop. Besides, Daryl does it, too, often, when he thinks Glenn is sleeping. It doesn't matter if the world has ended, or if they may all die tomorrow; they have this now. _This_ will live on.

"...And for the first time I feel as though I am reborn in my mind..."

It doesn't even matter if he can't remember the rest. He may lose everything he holds dear somewhere down the road. He may lose friends, the people he now considers family. He's almost lost his life, tasting the bittersweet life of after death. But he wants to live on, fight to the end, if he can stand inside this love... Who wouldn't? This is what he wants. He lays his head on the wide chest, listening to the steady lullaby of Daryl's heart beating.

+++

[ _You're mine forever now..._ ]

-end-


End file.
